Outside the bustling airport, the morning sun hung low, its pale gold light spilling across the glass facade. Engines hummed, horns blared, and travelers moved in restless waves — laughter, rolling suitcases, hurried footsteps. But inside a sleek black car parked at the curb, Saraphina sat in stillness, the chaos outside muffled by the tinted windows.
The soft hum of the air conditioner filled the silence. On her tablet screen, Ruby's face glowed in high definition — beautiful, angelic, almost too perfect to be real. She stood before a crowd of reporters in her pristine white dress, her hair cascading down her shoulders, her lashes glistening under harsh camera lights. Her voice trembled delicately, carefully rehearsed to sound raw.
"I never meant for any of this to happen," Ruby said, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I only wanted to bring joy through my work."
The crowd had eaten it up — the gasps, the sympathetic murmurs, the applause.
